His Arranged Marriage (11 page)

“Kiss me,” she whispered, “my prince. My sheikh. My bodyguard.”

He did, hungrily, realizing only after the kiss was finished that she had reverted to form with her respectful address of him.

And he had given in to her, like a haystack collapsing in a winter storm.

“Prince Makin doesn’t know everything,” he muttered, as they drew apart. “You get those wed
ding rings out of your pocket, put them back on, and don’t let me see them off you again. I should spank you.”

Serena laughed at him, a low, satisfied chuckle that was all woman and had shivers of anticipation running up his spine. “I think you will be my true husband very soon,” she said.

She turned and left the barn. Cade rubbed his lips ruefully. He could still taste her, could still feel her silky-soft hair on his fingertips.

“I’m only so much man,” he grumbled. “I’m not superhuman.” His mother had assigned him to be bodyguard; his brother was dispensing advice. Jessica had tossed the Victoria’s Secret bag of allure into the arsenal his wife was using against him.

There was nothing he wanted to do more than bury himself inside his teasing temptation of a wife. She wanted him, and that was highly seductive.

He wanted her, so much so that he felt burning with feverish desire.

Consummation meant irrevocable marriage with Serena. Did she expect him to want the throne? He did not. Reporters coming here today had scared him to death. The last thing he wanted was to raise a family in a glaring spotlight. He didn’t want any of his children to be in a royal succession. He raised horses for a living, and that was all he ever intended to do. His family lived quietly, anonymous solitude all they wanted. Today Serena tried to insure that
solitude by spinning an uninteresting yarn for the reporters.

He begrudgingly admired that, except that he was supposed to be protecting her.

She had been pursuing him, but now Mac had told her that she should allow him to pursue her.

She was his wife, but she was her own woman. A frown knotted his brow. With Serena, it was as if he lived in a maze from which he could not escape. Just as soon as he thought he’d figured out one angle of her, she threw another angle his way.

He was fairly positive he didn’t have control of his situation, nor his wife.

“I will not fall for these tricks,” he assured himself, “even though she’s been up-front about all of it, it might encourage her to become more devious. I’ll simply tell her I will never be interested in being in the line of succession, and if she wants to stay here with me, then she’ll just have to forget that she was ever a princess.”

And then maybe they could get down to the business of being just a man, just a woman who were brought together by an arranged marriage.

It was a nice and easy equation, but he had a funny feeling it wouldn’t be as simple to fit Serena into it. He had an itch for that little gal—and she was having too much fun providing the source!

L
AYLA READ
the evening papers with displeasure. “It says nothing here about the secret royal family
living in the States, or Serena’s unconsummated and dishonorable marriage to the wrong prince. She’s a tricky little devil, I’ll have to credit her for that.”

Azzam ignored her as he read the sports section. He was far more interested in the hockey finals being played in the States. All that bruising, crushing excitement in the end of May! For summer, there was also American baseball, and the French Open tennis games in France. He wished he was still fit enough for a game of convivial tennis.

“Azzam, do you hear me?”

He did, but he wouldn’t encourage her. He’d tried to tell Layla more than once that he wasn’t interested in wresting rule from anyone. For that matter, Azzam wasn’t interested in anything his wife had to say. He despised her scheming nature. Perhaps it was true what he’d read in a book he’d gotten from the States once, that behind every good man there was a good woman. Layla was not a good wife to him, a benefit the first wife should be. He had not accorded her a place of enjoyment in his heart since he learned the truth of his brother Ibrahim’s death. He far preferred the harem, and the young girls there who made him feel as if perhaps he could still play tennis and—in his wildest fantasies—hard-hitting hockey on an ice-cold rink.

He went back to daydreaming about body-challenging sports.

Layla slipped from the room to order her adviser to put in another tip to the American press, although they hadn’t done what she hoped for the first time. Maybe international press calls were needed to flush the imposter couple out of their honeymoon hideout.

Amazed by what she hadn’t thought of before, Layla stood rooted in place. International press. Of course.

The least it would do was break up a fake marriage, which was dangerous to her rightful throne.

More than that, the press
would
flush a royal family out of hiding. Rose and her sons were cowards. If their deed had not been wrong, they would have done it in the light of day instead of skulking off without a royal wedding. King Zak should be exposed for the fraud he had put over on the people of Balahar.

Azzam deserved the place due him as Ibrahim’s brother, Layla thought bitterly.
But now Rose is marrying her sons into the Balahar family by some sleight of hand, some trick of smoke. She intends to seize power and regain what she always wanted most—to cheat me out of my crown. She wants to be ruling queen of a combined kingdom of Balahar and Sorajhee. I will be reduced to a minor figure-head with mere dress-up duties.

She stole my betrothed.

She will not steal my crown.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Cade told Serena imperiously when he found her—where else?—in the barn. “I’ve been thinking about this, ever since you effectively rid us of the reporters. The princess thing is a lot of trouble. I wanted to treat you like one, but you were determined to be a plain ol’ American girl so you could share my life. The hassle with the press changed my mind. You can be a plain ol’ American girl, but I don’t want to hear any complaints when your velvet cushion isn’t plumped up for you regularly.”

Serena hung up the halter she carried and stared at her husband with a smile. “I told you that when in Texas, it is best to do as the Texans do. You came to Balahar and acted like a prince. Maybe you will do so again. It is only fitting that I am like an American woman here.”

“And that’s another thing we need to straighten out,” he said. “If we don’t have any princesses on
this ranch, we sure don’t have any princes. I’m never going back to Balahar to be a prince.”

“But surely to visit?” Serena asked, thinking her husband did not realize exactly what he was asking of her.

“Well, maybe,” he conceded. “Sometimes.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “You are a good man. Now please give me the keys to your truck.”

He recoiled, startled. She grinned, reaching into his pocket to hook the keys out with a finger. “All American girls need to know how to drive, and American girls who live on a ranch need especially to be able to drive a truck.”

“Not my truck!”

“Most particularly your truck,” Serena said, enjoying the expression on her husband’s face. “Why does that scare you?”

“It doesn’t scare me because it’s not going to happen. No one drives my truck but me.”

Serena laughed. “Teach me, husband. Otherwise someone else will have to teach me, and we will miss a prime opportunity to get to know each other as man and wife. The idea of teaching me should appeal to you.”

Cade glowered. “I’m trying to figure out how I always seem to get caught in your net of words. Just as soon as I’m positive I’m not going to do something, you change my mind somehow.”

She jingled his keys at him. “I want to learn to
be an independent woman, and no woman is truly independent unless she has her own transportation. We are too far from buses and subways, and I do not wish to be stranded in a foreign country—”

“I do not wish to have my gears ground into powder and my transmission dumped into the dirt!”

She raised her brows at him. “Surely you are a better teacher than that!”

“Serena,” he said on a growl, “that is not what I meant at all, and you darn well know it.”

“Oh, then you are suggesting I am too stupid to learn!” she exclaimed. She backed toward his shiny truck, jingling his keys at him again teasingly. “I am sorry to be so ignorant that my husband cannot even teach me how to drive.”

Cade ran to catch her as she opened the driver’s door and leaped into the seat, locking the door behind her. He darted around to the passenger door and got in, glaring at her.

“Why do you think that in American movies so many people make love in their vehicles?” she asked.

“Okay, that’s
it,
” he stated. “No one teaches you to drive except me.”

She beamed. “You are so generous, husband.”

“No, I’m not. I…I…you shouldn’t think about things like that,” he said, his tone stern.

“Not think about making love?” Serena raised her eyebrows. “I’m married, am I not? I want to be
a proper wife. I might like making love in your truck,” she said, “although I can’t quite envision how two people can manage such a feat.”

“Serena,” Cade said from between gritted teeth. “Here is the ignition. Put the key in here, and turn it until the engine comes to life.”

He ran his sleeve across his forehead. She grinned.

“Now, I put this key into this opening—oh, see how well it fits—and then I turn it on, and the engine roars to life!” She gave him a triumphant smile. “I like driving, Cade.”

He groaned. “Don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back, Princess. Now, see this behind the steering wheel? This is the shift.”

Glancing at her to see if she was paying attention, Cade halted. “You are listening?”

“To every word,” Serena answered, her eyes on his firm lips. “You have pointed out the shift.”

“Good. Now shift it into Reverse, and back up until you get to the grassier part of the driveway. It will be easier for you to turn around rather than drive backward the length of the driveway.”

“Oh, I should think so.” Serena moved the truck into reverse and like silk, it moved ever so slightly backward.

“Press on the gas, and the truck will move more quickly,” he instructed.

Serena mashed the gas, and the truck shot backward.

“Stop!” Cade cried.

“Aieee!” Serena shrieked.

Cade jerked her leg off the accelerator, kicking his boot over her foot and onto the brake. The truck came to a sudden stop, so swiftly that Serena was certain her teeth had flown out of her head. Adrenaline flowed through her, making her gasp.

“I think I need practice!” She glanced at her husband as he shifted the gear into Park.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. His dark skin stretched tight with tension over his high cheekbones.

“Do you agree that I need more practice?” she asked uncertainly. “Or are you angry?”

Opening his eyes, he stared at her, his eyes dangerous obsidian. “I’m not angry, and yes, I do agree that you need more practice. But you also need proper instruction and more information than I gave you. The whiplash I just received alerts me to the fact that I assumed you were asking for lessons in driving a truck, not lessons in driving generally. My apologies.”

“I’ve always had a driver,” she explained, “and at Radcliffe University we walked, of course, or sometimes I was allowed to go in a friend’s car if there was room for one of my bodyguards.”

“I bet you didn’t have a whole lot of dates, con
sidering they knew they’d get their hands broken if they tried anything.”

“I had no dates. I had studies,” she said demurely.

He smiled at her, and her heart fluttered. More than fluttered. It bounced with a whiplash all its own.

“You were probably a great student, Serena. The last thing I could ever call you is stupid.”

“I was merely trying to get your goad.”

For a moment, he stared at her. “Goat.”

“Pardon?”

“You got my goat.”

She nodded. “Well, I am glad you are willing to admit that you were wrong, Cade. You do not like to admit when you have been pigheaded, you know.”

He groaned. “Okay, you got my goad—you won. Now, I’ve never taught anyone to drive before,” he admitted. “Mac and I both learned from the cowboys, and Jessica learned by sneaking out and stealing their trucks to drive around the pastures at night.”

“Did she really do that?” Serena breathed, trying to imagine such audacity.

“Oh, Jessica’s her own individual, from her mismatched eyes to her sassy temper,” Cade said fondly.

“I wondered about her eyes, but I didn’t want to
say anything. There were a couple of women in the harem who had eyes of different colors, and they were quite prized.”

“Don’t tell Jessica,” Cade said dryly. “She won’t appreciate knowing that a man might ‘prize’ her more because of it. She was fascinated when colored contacts came out so she could choose one color or the other if she wanted.”

He chuckled, and Serena smiled.

“Come on. Let’s at least get you to the end of the driveway,” Cade said abruptly. “First, put the truck in Drive this time, and we’ll circle around on the grass. You might find driving easier if we go forward so you can see where you’re going.”

Serena heard the patience in her husband’s tone and tried harder to concentrate on the driving lesson than on
him.

C
ADE BREATHED
a sigh of relief when Serena reached the One Horse Drive-Up without further mishap. She pulled into the parking slot neatly and switched off the truck.

“I am learning,” she said. “You are a better teacher than you give yourself credit for.”

He read the menu with one eye since his head was throbbing. “You’re doing great, Serena. There are a couple of things we should discuss, however. You can’t drive in the city because you don’t have a license. I mean, it’s one thing for you to drive
around the ranch for fun, but take tonight, for instance. If we got stopped by the police, I’d have some explaining to do.”

“You would simply tell them that you are a prince, and that you can drive wherever you desire,” she stated. “Oh, no, that won’t work because you don’t want to act like a prince.”

“Right. But not only that, Serena, it wouldn’t be right to say it in the first place. No one should bend the laws of the country that have been put into place for the safety of all—no matter who they are.”

“So what’s the point of being royal?”

He grinned at her. “That’s why I’ve never missed being able to claim my title. It wouldn’t change who I am fundamentally.”

“In my country, royalty lives much better than others,” she said thoughtfully.

“But wouldn’t it be ideal if everybody had an equitable standard of living? No poverty, no slums?”

“Equitable standard of living means there would be no royalty, and who would rule?”

“I’m not saying that there shouldn’t be a royal family,” he said, examining the menu and not really paying attention to the concern in Serena’s voice. When he opened both eyes, his headache increased. Maybe if he could talk Serena into letting him drive the truck home, the headache would go away. He was pretty certain it was fear of the unknown that
was causing him tension. With Serena driving, he definitely felt he was hanging on to the cliffside of life. He rubbed his forehead, trying to explain with half an attention span. “I’m saying I don’t think of myself as a prince, and I’m happy. I don’t try to get out of driving tickets because of who I am. Everyone should take the consequences for their actions.”

“I see,” Serena said softly. “Yes, I think you have a point.”

“I think I’ll have the double burger,” Cade said. “All this driver’s ed is making me hungry. Or nervous enough to burn off my breakfast faster.”

He glanced at Serena but she didn’t smile. “What? What did I say? I’m not really all that nervous. You did great.”

She gazed at him. “Thank you. You’re a good teacher.”

Cade liked hearing that she thought so. “You’re a decent pupil. And a beautiful one, besides.”

Even when she rolled her eyes at him, he thought she was beautiful.

“There is so much about you that I don’t know,” she said wistfully.

“And I you,” he returned. “Like, how offended will you be if I don’t have them cut the onions on my burger?”

A reluctant smile hovered at her lips. “You don’t kiss me often anyway. Why would I even notice?”

Surprise jolted through him. “I have kissed you, though.”

“You are slow to do so and have to be encouraged.”

“Are you complaining? Or commenting?”

“Complaining.”

His gaze naturally went to her lips, which were full and deep peachy with a faint shine. Light paprika highlights sparkled in her hair as the sun came through the window and her skin glowed with a healthy polish. Her straight, tiny nose always looked regal because she challenged him on everything, giving her whole posture, including her nose, a rather saucy, upturned tip. There was even a challenge in her voice right now, disguised in her complaint, and her eyes held the unmistakable fire of the righteous attitude she held.

“I don’t even like onions,” he said, thinking that he could skip the burger, too, if she wanted to just sit in the car and neck. “Unless they’re cooked.”

“And kissing?”

“With the right woman,” he replied, knowing that would get a response from her.

“I am the right woman,” she told him, her tone imperious. “You knew it when you decided to impersonate your brother. Do not keep trying to pull the string away from me. I am not a cat to follow it.”

He laughed, reaching to touch her satiny hair with
one gentle finger. “You are such a princess. I don’t think you can erase that from one single inch of your royal person.”

“You did it without regrets,” she said. “I mean to stay here with my husband. I can be a cowgirl instead of a royal.” Her nose tilted even more dangerously as she stared at him, making certain he had understood her words clearly. Then she turned to the order box and pressed the button.

“May I help you?” the order taker asked.

“Yes. Prepare me two hamburgers at once without onions,” she commanded.

Cade put his chin down on his hand so his princess wouldn’t see him laugh.

“Sure, honey,” the order taker replied, her voice implying that she hadn’t appreciated the peremptory demand. “Would you like that served to you on a silver platter?”

Cade recognized the tone coming over the speaker as someone who had known everybody in Bridle from the time they were in diapers and didn’t take guff from anyone.

“Yes, that will be fine,” Serena answered.

“Is there anything else I can get Your Highness?” the waitress asked sarcastically.

“How did she know it was me?” Serena glanced at Cade, puzzled.

He shrugged. “I think she’s trying to make a point.”

Serena frowned. “What point?”

“She didn’t like the way you placed your order.”

“What does that have to do with her addressing me by my title?”

Sighing, he said, “She’s being testy because she thinks you ordered her to get your lunch.”

“I did. That’s what I’m supposed to do. Order lunch.”

“Yes, but in Bridle, we don’t really order. We’ve all known each other for years, or at least known someone who knows someone else, so we request politely and maybe even ask after the kids,” he explained as gently as he could.

“I see,” Serena said. “I am sorry that I have offended the custom.” She leaned back to the microphone. “Pardon me,” she said, her tone contrite.

“Yes?” The woman was in no way appeased.

“If we could also have two sodas, that would be very nice. And I was wondering how your children are doing.”